


Oh! Darling

by letitmclennon



Category: The Beatles
Genre: And Paul crying and writing Oh darling, Angst, John's "I want a divorce" thing, Last! sex, Light Sex Scene, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 11:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14810342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitmclennon/pseuds/letitmclennon
Summary: John, John Lennon wanted to leave the Beatles, he wanted to leave Paul. [...]By now he was losing him, every day John went further away from him and Paul didn’t want to. But how to tell him, how to tell him he needed him, that alone he would die, that John's words made the ground beneath his feet vanish and now he was rapidly falling into the vortex of despair?How to tell him if not in a song?





	Oh! Darling

His fingers pressed the ivory keys of the piano and Paul rest his head against it.

He let it fall because it was heavy and hurt, too full of words, thoughts, which like sharp and cold needles pierced his skull, without mercy, without a single moment of truce.

The words, _"Paul, I want a divorce."_

The thoughts, _the Beatles are over, John is leaving me, what will I do now?_

His right forefinger continued to press the same key, faster and faster until he was impatient with everything that occupied his head and with the insistent sound, the young man snorted exasperated and let it go.

Paul stood up, throwing the blanket on his chair: he had recovered it to ward off the cold that had been penetrating ever deeper into his bones since the morning, and he tried to light a cigarette, snorting nervously as the smoke began to pluck in his throat.

That day had been one of the worst since this whole Beatles story began.

John, John Lennon wanted to leave the Beatles, he wanted to leave _Paul_.

And the way he told him, with that coldness in his eyes, that in an instant became two pieces of ice, was unbearable.

What was he thinking? It didn’t happen in a while, John had been behaving like that for a long time, all the warmth of his smile, his laugh, his look had vanished, and the man Paul was dealing with now was so different from the lad he learned to know.

By now he was losing him, every day John went further away from him and Paul didn’t want to. But how to tell him, how to tell him he needed him, that alone he would die, that John's words made the ground beneath his feet vanish and now he was rapidly falling into the vortex of despair?

How to tell him if not in a song?

But now he wasn’t in the mood for writing, he had no concentration. He had the heart, yes, but he was too upset and kept on wince. He wouldn’t know which words to use to say that if John hadn’t left him, Paul would have never hurt him.

He wouldn’t know how to tell him that he didn’t want to leave him alone, without showing that he was actually begging him.

He wouldn’t know how to tell him that for Paul, John was like a treasure, one of the most precious, one of those you seek for so fucking long and that you can finally find after so many efforts. A treasure that give immense happiness and wealth.

A real treasure. A very dear person to Paul.

His darling...

_Darling_ could be a good title for his song, but it was cold, just like John. Instead this was Paul's song and Paul could never be so detached with John. The title of the song had to show all his warmth, it had to be full of sadness and at the same time full of joy. It had to be... Oh!

It had to be _Oh! Darling_.

That was it. The perfect title.

Paul prepared to write it on the sheet leaning on the piano lectern, and after the title, all the other verses also slipped easily out of his pen. He didn’t notice before that he already had the lyrics ready in his head; it was enough for him to simply put together all those thoughts and emotions that had been unleashed in him after John had given him the sad, shocking news.

And he was so involved in his composition that the bell ringing literally made him jump. The sheets and the pen fell to the floor and Paul looked towards the entrance. Who could be at this time of the evening?

A part of him knew the answer. A large part of him knew it and was waiting for it; the other hated it. What would he tell him, how would he explain his behaviour to _him_ without appearing weak, defeated?

But before this small part of him convinced him to stay still and not even move a muscle to go and open the door, Paul was already heading for it.

The bell rang again when Paul put his hand on the knob.

" _Paul_?"

As he feared and hoped it was him, it was John himself, beyond the door of his house. Paul's hand on the knob began to tremble.

" _Paul! I know you're in._ "

Paul startled. He started to turn the knob, when suddenly he found himself wondering if _she_ was there with John. Lately it was so difficult to talk only with John: he took her everywhere, in the studio, in their photoshoots... everywhere and this bothered Paul more than anything else. Yoko had taken the place in that binomial that was now John  & Yoko, while until recently it had been John & Paul, only John & Paul, busy being John & Paul, to think only about them and their small perfect world...

" _Open this fucking door, Paul!"_ John snapped for the umpteenth time, striking the door with his hand.

Paul didn’t want to open it if she was there. He was willing to beg John, in fact he didn’t really care much to seem weak in front of him: it was John after all, it wouldn’t be the first time to show him that side of himself. But he wasn’t willing to do the same thing in front of her; she was taking away the only beautiful thing in his life, the only thing Paul had associated with _forever_.

However, the desire to see John and talk to him was too great, greater than his self-esteem, so he had to take the risk.

So he took a deep breath, before finally opening the door.

She wasn’t there and Paul sighed in relief.

"About fuckin’ time." John snapped, making his way into his house, without even waiting for Paul's invitation.

It made Paul smile a little: it reminded him of the early days in Liverpool, when John showed up at his house and entered as soon as Paul opened the door, because he didn’t really need permission. John was always welcome at McCartney’s home.

When Paul closed the door, he realized that however happy, he was also afraid, afraid of the questions that John could ask him, like _"Why did you leave?"_ Or again, the one that had no answer, _"How are you?"_

And now, as John stared at him intently, his eyes still glacial, Paul felt himself blushing and, trying to get out of that situation, he walked past him to his studio, the most heated room in the house, only wishing the bright fire in the fireplace could melt the frost in John.

"Do you want to sit down, John?"

But he grabbed his arm to hold him there.

"Why did you leave?"

Paul looked away as the moments of that day returned to relive in him, the statement of John and Paul bursting into tears like a child and could no longer stop, so that he had been forced to be accompanied home by Mal.

He should have felt ashamed. But this was what he felt, a sincere feeling that Paul couldn’t be ashamed of.

"Don’t you imagine it?"

"What? That you’re sorry for what I told you?"

"Shouldn’t I be, John? I'm not allowed to suffer because you're leaving me, am I, John?"

"Yes, but you aren’t allowed to behave as if you didn’t expect it ... We knew it would happen, we all knew it."

"You fucking knew it!" he yelled, freeing his arm with an angry gesture from John's grip, "You knew it for sure because you're the only one who really want it, I don’t want all this shit, I don’t want you to leave me. And if you can’t stand seeing me like this because of you, go fucking away. I just know that you don’t care about me anymore."

Then without waiting for any response from John, he slipped into his study, letting the warmth of the room envelop him and try to ward off the cold that the words, the look, the intentions of John were transmitting more and more.

He winced when he heard John follow him lightly, entering almost fearfully into the room. And to prevent the thousand emotions that were stirring in him took the upper hand in John’s presence, he moved towards the fireplace, reviving it with a few pieces of wood, and knelt there in front to move those already burned.

"If I hadn’t cared anymore about you, I wouldn’t have been here now. Don’t you think?"

Paul bit his lip and didn’t answer, continuing his work undeterred. Was it really for this reason that John came to his house? Or did he just want to resume the speech and start the umpteenth, endless quarrel? Whatever the reason, Paul couldn’t really be unhappy that he was there with him. He felt that John was approaching, then his steps stopped and what Paul heard later was the rustle of sheets of paper still on the floor.

_Oh no!_

 He immediately stood up, turning and wishing only to reach those damn sheets before John.

Too late.

"What's this?"

"Nothing." he answered, trying to stay calm, but the flush that coloured his cheeks made everything more complicated.

"Nothing?" John repeated, raising an eyebrow, "Is it a song?"

"What else could it be?" Paul sighed annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking up at the sky.

"Your attempt to make me change my mind?"

"Nobody can make you change your mind, John." Paul remarked apathetically, "Don’t worry, it's just a stupid song."

"It doesn’t seem stupid." John said, giving a quick glance at the text, "You want us to work together? One last time?"

Paul snorted, almost wanting to mock him. It had been ages since they really wrote together and they certainly wouldn’t have started doing it again just because of this last song.

"No, thank you, it's my song, I have to write it."

"As you want." John finally said, now examining the text in more detail.

Paul nodded sadly, realizing that John's tone hid a hint of disappointment. He desperately wanted to be able to write with him again, but Paul didn’t think it would be the same. It wouldn’t be fun anymore, there was no longer the same understanding, the same harmony of feelings, friendship, love, which illuminated their faces and shone in their eyes.

All was lost, and what is lost can’t be recovered.

"Isn’t it a bit too much, Paul?" John finally asked, putting the sheet on the piano, unable to take his eyes off those words.

"Too much?"

"This song, isn’t it a bit too... _explicit_?"

Paul opened his eyes, "Explicit?"

"Yeah, I mean, it sounds like a love song to me."

"Because _it is_ a love song, John."

"But it's a love song for me, Paul. Everyone will understand it. We can’t allow it. It would be a disaster, it would- "

"Listen, John." Paul interrupted, frowning, very annoyed now, "I don’t fucking know why you're here. Do you want to hurt me by leaving me? You want to prove you're the one to control anything, that it had always been you, that all the important decisions are up to you? It's okay to me, but leave my song alone, let me do this for me. Maybe yes, it's direct, too direct, and everyone will understand that it's me begging you, but it's _my song_ , I'm writing this to make sure that this thing you're doing won’t devouring me from the inside. I need it, John, all right, I need to worry about myself because you don’t do it anymore. So let me live this break up in my way, as you are living it in your own."

The words escaped his lips without him being able to stop them, affecting not only John but himself as well. He knew that perhaps he was facing it in a decidedly negative way, but it was stronger than him. He couldn’t stop himself, hold himself, he simply couldn’t do it. And his song wanted to mirror himself, as he was, as he had always been. Sincere, desperate and passionate.

Before collapsing in front of John, Paul quickly turned to the fireplace, collapsing on the ground right there, hoping that the heat of the fire could make the tears in his eyes dry in a moment, and in spite of all his attempts to hold himself , Paul began to cry again, in silence, preventing his body from being shaken by sobs and John to see him once again in those conditions.

But John could see his tears from behind and immediately came closer, forcing Paul to turn towards him. Just as John's gaze met Paul's, the latter blushed violently, letting John look at him from above with those eyes that pierced him like a flaming and frozen knife.

"You... you're an idiot, a fucking idiot. You're the most idiotic of all the idiots!" John said.

His hands snapped to grab Paul's face and he let out a whispered _"John?"_ , as the man drew him closer and finally kissed him.

Paul could expect anything from John that day, except a kiss, a kiss that was just like Paul, sincere, desperate and passionate. Paul didn’t want to hold back and ruin that moment, as unexpected as it was wonderful, and grabbed the hem of his shirt, allowing John to kiss him as he wanted.

"Never say such things, that I don’t worry about you anymore, because it's not true. I came here tonight for you, just for you. And Paul, I know that deep down you're just afraid I'll forget you, but leaving you doesn’t mean forgetting. I could never do it, nor forget you, nor replace you with anybody, because you know, women have always followed each other in our lives, we can change our wife, but I will never be able to change you. There will be no one like Paul McCartney for me and no one like John Lennon for you."

John ended kissing him once more and Paul closed his eyes, letting go on his mouth and meanwhile his hands clung  stronger to John's shirt, pulling him down, unconsciously. John's legs gave way and he ended up on the same level as Paul, unable to stop kissing him. Paul's hands went up to John's neck, stroking it lightly, while his lips moved more frantically and eagerly over John's.

"I have to go..." John murmured, forcing himself to get away from Paul.

But he didn’t allow it, "No, John, stay."

Instead, he laid him down on the softly carpeted floor, then he slipped into his lap, and John offered no resistance.

"Why?" he asked, looking at him softly, as the man bent over him.

"For me, you don’t need any other reason to stay."

"Paul, don’t make everything more difficult." he sighed, but his hand dipped into the soft mass of dark hair of the other man.

Paul let out a smile, tinged with malice and tenderness. "Has it ever been easy?"

"Why do you insist, when you know I'll leave you anyway, whatever happens tonight?" he asked, his tone was sincere, thinking that if he stayed, he would only hurt both, if he stayed, it would be a mistake.

"Why? I told you so many times, but you never wanted to believe me. I love you, John."

It was a mistake, John thought as Paul's lips returned on his.

"I love you."

But somehow it was a right mistake, he said, sitting up and clasping his hands on Paul's backside to draw him closer.

"I love you."

A right mistake that had to be done one last time.

So he let Paul's hands slide over his chest, stroking it lightly and moving lower and lower, to the edge of the shirt where his grip tightened so as to be able to pull it off the next moment.

John immediately returned his attention, skillfully moving his hands to strip Paul of his jacket and then his white shirt, which slid lightly on his shoulders, along the arms until it was abandoned somewhere on the floor.

Paul sighed as John's left hand spread out on his back, holding him close, and then he threw his head back as his neck underwent the most delicious of attacks, the warm and wet mouth of his partner.

His hands intertwined with the long, auburn strands of John's hair, following the movements of his head, when John bent his mouth over Paul's chest, determined to drive him crazy. A shiver ran through the younger man’s body, starting from the head and ending on the legs, which involuntarily tightened around John's hips.

"Johnny..." he murmured amazed and still strangely surprised by the feeling that the man was arousing in him.

Paul's hands held him even closer, approaching his face to find his lips, joining them, when he found them, to his own and the hungry groaning that John let slip into Paul's mouth was absolutely sublime.

Soon John decided to switch their positions, and Paul found himself lying on the ground with John above him and was busy getting rid of the last remaining clothes.

Paul knew he was anxious and excited as much as John, just as if it were their first time. John was equally frantic and amazed by what was happening, and Paul let him do whatever he wanted, undress him quickly, touch him roughly wherever his hands and lips could reach; all this while Paul looked at him lovingly, sliding his hand several times in his hair, admiring the vision of his naked body that covered his own, that pale skin caressed by the heat and light of the fireplace, warming it and making it shine with his flickering rays, creating an effect that made Paul simply ecstatic. In this way, above him, John was beautiful and for Paul it was also something magical, something he could not, but had to give up.

However now, _now_ , John was there, with him and Paul just wanted to enjoy that moment before the inevitable happened. Without even realizing it, while John's mouth was intent on kissing that delicate spot behind his ear, his legs spread for John, welcoming him closer.

John lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at Paul's eyes with uncertain eyes, clouded with pleasure.

"Paul, I... I can’t do it."

"What?"

"This, if now I... if now you... I don’t think I can leave you after."

Paul smiled in pain, stroking his face with his hand, gentle caresses that had the only purpose of reassuring him.

"It's not true, you'll leave me anyway, John, but thank you for saying that."

Then he kissed him, wrapping him completely with his legs and arms around John. He kissed him with all the passion that burned in his body, perhaps to make him understand that he had no intention of giving him up that night, that he had the right, as a convict, to see granted one last wish. His lips parted John's, letting his tongue intertwine with his partner’s, letting them run after each other and then collide and then love as they had always done themselves, since the day Paul first put his eyes on John.

Finally John took him, all uncertainties erased by Paul's kiss, and the latter gasped heavily, while John stayed still and inside him, admiring how his beautiful face twisted by a grimace gradually relaxed into an expression of pure ecstasy.

Struggling to open his eyes, Paul saw John's light ones completely lost in him, looking at him like never before, like someone who realized he had just lost something very precious; was Paul as precious as a treasure for John too? Yes, Paul felt that it was just like that. So he raised his head to gently kiss his forehead, before whispering in his ear, with a wet sigh, " _Oh!_ Darling..."

It was then that John began to move, making him wriggle under him for the incredible sensations he was giving him. The young man's hands spread on John's back, then closed again as John's movements became more intense and deeper, gripping on his shoulder blades with force.

Paul bit his lip, while John hid his face in his neck, inhaling deeply the smell of his wet and smooth skin. But the pleasure John gave him was too much to hold back, and Paul gave up any attempt to keep himself from moaning and panting openly; other times he felt obliged to do so, suppressing any sound too explicit and too enchanted before it escaped his lips, perhaps because he was ashamed or maybe just because he was afraid to show John how vulnerable he was in his arms, how powerful  was the effect he had on Paul. However it was different now. Now it didn’t matter any of that shit. Now John had to know, before he left him, he had to know that there was no sweeter, more overwhelming pleasure than the one only John could light up in him.

"Oh Johnny..."

His moan brushed John's ear as he moved his hand to caress the warm body beneath him, with a care that had a grip on Paul's heart and allowed the tears still in his eyes to run down the sides of his face, through the temples, and finally to go and hide in his sweaty hair.

John's fingers moved gently touching, as if he was afraid of breaking him, his shoulders and then his chest, continuing lower and lower, on his hips and finally grabbing his thigh wrapped around his waist, squeezing it tightly to help his increasingly urgent rhythm.

Paul wished for a moment to stay like that, to enjoy John slowly and intensely, to delight in the feeling of having him inside, where he was sure that nobody could take him away from Paul... at least for a single, too short moment.

The breath of both became ragged and John tried to kiss him, while Paul panted more and more loudly, alternating moans and repeated _oh Johnny_ , which caused violent hot chills in his partner’s body, one after the other, without truce, until the pleasure overwhelmed them with its fiery mantle, leaving them trembling and satisfied in front of the fireplace.

John leaned on Paul, allowing him to still hold him in his arms, and Paul was silently grateful. He feared and hated the moment when John would leave, crossing the threshold that divided the world where they could be together from the cruel one that wanted them separated, the world in which John was choosing to live.

At that thought, Paul held John even tighter, rubbing his face into his auburn hair, wiping his tears with those soft locks, breathing in their musky smell mixed with that of the many cigarettes that John smoked during the day.

Then John moved and Paul reluctantly loosed his hug. He expected John to get dressed quickly and leave. Instead the young man rolled to his side, smiling blissfully to himself, and stretched out with the cat's feline movements. Maybe he didn’t want to leave yet... Was it possible?

Yes, it was, and Paul decided it when John grabbed him by the arm and drew him closer, offering himself as a pillow for the night.

Only a fool would refuse and fortunately, Paul wasn’t at all.

"So what do you think?" He asked, sighing contentedly against his shoulder.

John chuckled and turned to him, kissing his forehead and resting his hand on his cheek.

"I think I've never heard you like that before! I mean, with me."

Paul blushed slightly, while John continued to laugh and meanwhile stroked his face with his hand.

"But I was referring to the song..."

"Oh, that one!"

"Do you still think it's too... explicit?"

"Yeah." he replied, and before Paul could protest, he hastened to add, "But you're right, it's your song, Paul. So that's okay."

"And will you let me sing it as I want?"

"As you like."

"Without interference of any kind?"

"Without any interference."

"Promise it." Paul told him, covering John’s hand with his own, still intent on stroking his face.

"I promise."

Paul smiled very pleased, and drew John's hand on his lips, to gently kiss his fingers, "Thank you, John. You'll see, you won’t regret it."

Then he snuggled against him, while John took the blanket on the chair and placed it on top of both of them. Paul closed his eyes, yawning: he thought he was back in 1960, when they were fucking freezing in their small shitty room in Hamburg, when, while everyone was asleep, Paul sneaked into John's bed, looking for his warmth and John covered him well with that light sheet they had, and then hugged him to warm them both.

Now it was just like then. The only difference was that _that_ was the beginning of their adventure, but now it was the end.

It was just the end.

*****

The morning peeped out into the room, with a ray of sunlight that crept through the folds of heavy curtains.

It was one of those things that, as soon as you wake up, you know for sure, that the sun has risen outside, that a new day has begun, that the fire in the fireplace has faded during the night.

That John had left.

When Paul woke up, finding himself alone under the covers, he didn’t think for a moment that John could be somewhere in his house, in the bathroom taking a shower, or in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

Paul simply knew that John at some point in the night or in the morning, who could say exactly, had taken his belongings and had left, leaving Paul's house as well as his life.

He kept on lying on the ground, in a state of total apathy. There were so many things to think about, that perhaps for the moment it was better not to do anything. Now that he had his whole life to think, it would be useless to do it at that moment, it would be just too painful.

He just held the blanket that smelled as John and himself, for the cold had returned in the room and into his body. And doing so he noticed a folded sheet of paper that slid next to his head when he moved the blanket.

Blinking his eyelids, perplexed, he reached out to pick up what had caught his attention.

When he realized that there were words written on the paper, and that the calligraphy was John’s disordered and elegant, his heart jumped in his chest, happy and desperate at the same time. He opened the sheet of paper with trembling hands. The first was a letter for him.

_"Paul, forgive me if you can._

_Forgive me for leaving you. With the Beatles and alone, this morning_.

_But I don’t think I could leave you and this house, while all of you, in your eyes, in your gestures, beg me now and always to stay._

_Call me coward if you want, and then forgive me._

_I’m writing you a letter because I can’t tell you these things in person. It's been a while since I've watched you sleep and my heart jumps to see that, even in your sleep, what is happening between us torments you. I remember that it wasn’t like that before. Before all of this shit, it was enough for me to hold you in my arms to ensure that your sleep was peaceful, with many beautiful dreams. I could well see it on your face, your relaxed expression, your lips stretched out in a natural smile._

_Now it's not like that anymore and it's my fault. It's only my fault. No longer do I need to hug you in your sleep, it won’t improve things. You need only something I can’t give you._

_Do you think it never took me the idea of both of us together, somewhere? Anywhere?_

_Even now, as I look at you sleeping and notice your slightly frowned eyebrows and contracted lips, I can’t help thinking, wishing to take you away with me. Where? In a place that could be only our, somewhere only the two of us know. But reality always comes back, inexorable. It slaps me with his violent and cold hand, points out to me that there is no place in this world where John Lennon and Paul McCartney can be together, in peace, forever, without anyone being able to say 'Why? It's wrong, it's unfair...'_

_We would hate each other two minutes later._

_And I, on the other hand, prefer to love you for the rest of my life._

_Did I ever tell you that I love you? Maybe not. I'll tell you now, okay? So you will never forget it._

_John "_

Then Paul didn’t know why he did it, after all the letter was over, but he felt he had to turn the page, he just knew, it was as if John was telling him, like an invisible post scriptum. And he wasn’t really ready for what he found in his hands: the back of the same sheet, a whole scribbled page, but not with nonsense words. There were only so many _I love you_ , one after the other, written or drawn in different ways, capital, lowercase, block letters, italics... but the words didn’t change and hit Paul right in the middle of his chest, grabbing his heart, crushing it mercilessly until when he could no longer hold himself and burst into tears.

And clutching John's letter to himself, he realized that the other sheet was his song. The text remained the same as it was written the day before, only the title had undergone a small correction.

John canceled with a line _Oh! Darling_ , writing in his place...

_"Oh! Johnny."_

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I'm sorry for the delay, but the past months have been sooo busy.   
> I promised a nc-17 fic about John and Paul, and here we are. This was actually my third nc-17 fic, but I wanted to post it badly because it's about one of my favourite drawing of Fiona Fu. I'll post the fanart on tumblr.   
> Besides I really love this song and how Paul sings "Oh darling" to make it sound as "Oh Johnny!". :3  
> Hope you like it! :)  
> Oh sorry for any mistakes, it's unbetaed for once. I re-read sooo many times and tried to be careful. If you find any mistakes, let me know.   
> Thank you.  
> Have a good day!! :D  
> Chiara


End file.
